A day at the races
by MattheJ1
Summary: Characters from every series (up to DiU) compete in a high-stakes cart race.
1. Chapter 1

Day at the races

 **Chapter one**

 **Start your engines**

"Welcome, everybody!" the voice bellowed out of the loudspeakers, "To the second annual Grand Prix race!"

Below the commentator's box, the crowds cheered.

"I'm your host, Robert E. O. Speedwagon," Speedwagon continued, "Here with my good friend Johnathan Joestar!"

"That's right, Speedwagon," Johnathan said beside him, "And what a beautiful day it is in Morioh for this race – not a cloud in the sky. I couldn't think of better weather for a race."

"I think some of our racers might disagree with you there, Johnathan," Speedwagon said with a chuckle.

Turning to the camera, he said, "To all those watching at home – this race will take place over our 50-mile course, through Morioh Forest, across a narrow cliffside, and down the coast. And whoever wins will take home our prize-" Speedwagon pulled away the curtain on the display case beside him "-the Red Stone of Aja!"

"The legendary Hamon amplifier?" Johnathan asked.

"Correct! But it's also the fuel for the dreaded Stone Masks, and an unlimited power source. Quite frankly, any of our racers could stand to benefit from this stone!"

 _Vroom_

"Speaking of which, it seems our first racers are arriving on the course!" Speedwagon shouted. "Let's take a look."

The screen behind Speedwagon turned on and began broadcasting the starting line, where two cars were already pulling up.

"Ah, it is the Zeppelis we see first!" Speedwagon exclaimed. "On the left is William, in his car, _Dazed_ , and on the right, his grandson Caesar, with _Confused_!"

He turned to his left. "Tell me, Johnathan, can we expect to see any collaboration between these two?"

"It doesn't seem likely," Johnathan said. "Both Zeppelis are stubborn and highly competitive, and never more so than within their own family."

Down on the course, the two racers exchanged looks with each other.

"I hope you don't expect me to go easy on you, old man," Caesar said with a smile.

"Of course not," William retorted. "Anyone who would try to relent due to family is no family of mine."

"Well said, you dinosaur," Caesar retorted.

"Make way, fools!" a voice said behind them.

They both turned, and stared.

What was bearing down towards them was less a car than a hunk of metal. From every side jutted spikes, guns, and laser cannons. At the wheel sat a man just as mechanized, howling with glee.

"And here comes Rudol von Stroheim," bellowed Speedwagon, a hint of distaste in his voice, "driving his new and improved _Volkswaffe II_."

"My old vehicle was inferior," Stroheim shouted. "But my pit crew rebuilt it and redesigned it to be the ultimate racing car. German engineering is the best!"

"If it's the best," Caesar mumbled under his breath, "why'd you lose last year?"

"And next up," Johnathan said, "It's Koichi in his _Act IV_."

Stroheim craned his neck to see the car pulling up next to him, and nearly fell over laughing when he did.

A tiny green car with just three wheels rolled up, with Koichi at the wheel. He turned to look at the other competitors. "Hey, everyone," he said, waving. "Nice day for a race, huh?"

Stroheim started laughing. "Is this a joke?" he said. "You're just a little kid! Are you even old enough to drive?"

"Y-yes," Koichi said, blushing.

Stroheim laughed harder. "Go home, little boy. This is a man's race, for-oof!"

Suddenly, his head slammed into his steering wheel. "W-what's going on?" he said, trying to pull his head up.

"Don't underestimate me," Koichi said, glowering. "Or you'll be left in the dust. Understand?"

"Y-yes," Stroheim said.

"Good!"

Suddenly the weight pressing down on his head lifted, and he shot his head up, banging it against the ceiling of his car.

"Good thing my head's made of metal," he said, smoothing his hair back into place.

Behind him, a silver car was approaching the starting line.

"Next up," Speedwagon said, "In his _Chariot_ , it's Poln-"

 _VROOM_

Suddenly, a motorcycle leapt over the car. _Chariot_ swerved out of the way as a man in a cowboy hat pulled in next to Koichi.

"And here's Hol Horse," Speedwagon amended, "followed closely by Polnareff."

"Long time no see, Polo," Hol said, grinning. "How've you been?"

"Oh, just fine," Polnareff said. "Seeing as how nobody's been shoving anything up my nose."

The other racers looked at Hol Horse in query, who seemed somewhat embarrassed.

"I hope you don't intend to win on that thing," Stroheim sneered, caressing one of his car's many guns. "You're mighty exposed out there."

"Oh, I don't," Hol replied. "But I'm happy with second place."

Stroheim seemed taken aback. "You don't care about winning?"

"Not if it means you aiming at _Old Flames_ with those guns," he said, patting his handlebars. "Nobody gets killed over second place."

Before Stroheim could reply, the sound of three revving engines caught everyone's attention.

"Oh my," Speedwagon said. "Are they here?"

As if to answer his question, three cars roared up to the finish line, with three reclining men inside.

"They are!" Speedwagon shouted. " _Go-Go, Drive,_ and _Highway_ – which can only mean the Pillar Men are here!"

Esidisi leaned out the window. "These guys are our competition?" he sneered. "The Stone is as good as ours!"

"Don't get overconfident, Esidisi," Kars said, adjusting his turban. "A human once told me, 'pride goeth before a fall.'"

Wammu looked at the other racers. "I look forward to a good race from all of you," he said.

"Well, you'll get one from me, I can promise that," Polnareff said.

"Hey, Polnareff!" called a voice from behind him. "Remember me?"

Polnareff turned and watched as a bright red car pulled up, spikes jutting out the front and a muscular arm hanging out the window.

He scratched his head. "Can't say that I do."

"It's ZZ!" the man screeched. "From Pakistan?"

"Oh, yeah, you're that guy," Polnareff said. "Sorry, most of you enemy Stand users started bleeding together by that point."

ZZ screeched, but before he could say anything, the ground started to rumble.

"And here come the next two racers," Speedwagon said as two massive shapes rolled into view. "On the left, it's Kira Yoshikage in _Don't Stop Me Now."_

Kira nodded from the cockpit of what was essentially a tank, the treads pulling him up to the starting line.

"And the other…"

"It's him," Johnathan finished angrily.

 _Road Roller_ pulled in beside Kira. Dio leaned out the window, smirking.

Speedwagon grabbed the mic again. "F-For those of you just joining us, Dio Brando is-"

"They know who I am, Speedwagon," Dio interrupted. "Can't you hear the boos?"

Indeed, the crowd had started to boo as soon as his roller appeared.

"It seems the crowd hasn't forgiven Dio for his chicanery last year," Speedwagon said.

"As well they shouldn't!" Johnathan added bitterly. "People almost died!"

The hissing continued, but Dio seemed completely unfazed, as if he reveled in the crowd's hatred. "Hey, Polnareff," he called out.

"What do you want, Dio?" Polnareff asked angrily.

Dio pointed forward. Polnareff looked where he was pointing, not seeing anything.

"Huh? What's over there?"

"That, Polnareff," Dio said, "is the direction we're supposed to be racing. Just in case you get confused again."

"Not this year, Dio," Polnareff said. "You can't pull that trick on me or anyone else again!"

"Polnareff is correct," Speedwagon said. "Due to complaints from last year, all use of The World or any other time manipulation has been banned from the competition."

"But Dio may have some other tricks up his sleeve," Johnathan added. "He is still a vampire."

"Which reminds me," Speedwagon said. "How can he and the Pillar Men be in the sun right now?"

"Well, Speedwagon, it seems time and technology are on their side."

Dio rested his hand on his cheek, feeling the veneer of sunscreen. "It seems the modern world has some advantages over the time I come from. Still, it'll be quite a relief to not even need that anymore."

He turned to Kars. "Hey, I hear you're the one who created the stone mask. A lesser man might claim he owed you a debt. I hope you don't mind when I take that stone and use it to ascend further.

Kars chuckled. "Don't get on your high horse just because you're one step above humans. You're still leagues below me."

"Hey! Hey!" ZZ called. "Master Dio! I-I want you to know that I entered this race just for you! I-In the unlikely event that I win instead of you, I'll give you the-"

"Stop talking," Dio said, not even looking in his direction.

"Y-Yes, master."

"So," Speedwagon said, "With those two, we have just three racers missing. I wonder when they'll-"

He was interrupted by the sound of three motors approaching.

"They're here!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "The Joestars have arrived!"

The first car skidded into place, a white-and-purple cruiser.

"The returning champion, Jotaro Kujo in his _Car Platinum!_ "

The next vehicle pulled up, lights flashing.

"The newcomer, Josuke Higashikata in _Ambulance Is Not Crash!_ "

Everyone began to cheer when they saw the driver of the third car.

"And the crowd favorite, in _Bloody Storm_ , it's – Joseph Joestar!"

Joseph stood up in his car, his spiky hair jutting out at all angles. "Thank you, everybody, for coming!" he shouted to the roaring crowd.

"Mr. Joestar?" Polnareff said incredulously. "You're looking…healthy."

"That's an understatement!" bellowed Speedwagon. "The last time these two saw each other, Joseph was in his 70s – and that was ten years ago!"

Joseph laughed. "The moral of this story, Polnareff, is never neglect your Hamon training! Now I've got the body of a 20-year old, and a mind like a steel trap!"

Jotaro shook his head. "Good grief."

"Old man," Josuke said, "I've seen things caught in steel traps with sharper minds than yours."

"Laugh now, son," Joseph said, "but I'll be the one walking away with the Red Stone of Aja."

"Maybe so," Josuke replied, if you're the highest bidder."

"Eh?"

"After I win," Josuke continued, "I'll be having an auction. I don't need a stupid rock, but I'll be happy with a good bit of spending money."

Koichi seemed startled. "Josuke, you can't seriously be willing to give the stone to those…villains!"

Josuke laughed. "That all depends on who can pay up." Leaning back in his seat, he chuckled.

 _Of course, it'll be my old man. Everyone knows how rich Joseph Joestar is – he could bid everyone else under the table. This way, not only does the stone stay out of the hands of evil, but I get enough money to buy whatever I want! It's a result that makes everybody happy!_

Speedwagon laughed. "It seems the Joestar bloodline is just as audacious as it was 100 years ago. How fortunate that Hamon has allowed these three to interact in this manner. Johnathon, you must be so proud of your descendants."

"Why, thank you, Speedwagon," Johnathon said. "But I can't take credit for them – it was my beautiful wife Erina who raised Joseph, and all the others must have had wonderful mothers as well."

"Spoken like a true Joestar," Speedwagon said.

Turning to the racers he said, "All right, let's get this show on the road! Engines ready!"

The racers revved their engines. Speedwagon took off his checkered hat, holding it in front of him.

"3…2…1… _Go!_ "

He tossed the hat from the commentator's box, and it sailed over the track. The racecars surged forward.

The race was on.

==TO BE CONTINUED=

xxxxxxx

 _Inspired by this image: /RPV7UGa_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

 **A complete non-starter**

Thirteen vehicles shot forward, their tires producing an ungodly squealing that nearly drowned out the roar of the crowd.

Immediately, they began to separate, with Jotaro and Dio surging forward right away while Hol Horse lagged.

As soon as he noticed Dio coming into range, Jotaro whirled around, just catching The World's first punch.

"Good grief," he said. "So soon?"

"It's only common sense," Dio replied. "I might as well take out the strongest fighter first."

The two unleashed their flurries of blows simultaneously.

 _ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA_

 _MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA_

Behind them, Esidisi scoffed. "They'll be at it like this the whole race."

"Maybe they'll both take each other out," Hol Horse offered.

"I wouldn't count on it!" Speedwagon said, watching through the camera on the helicopter above. "Remember, audience, that last year, despite Jotaro and Dio both completely obliterating each other's vehicles, they still took home first and second place, respectively!"

Suddenly a .50 caliber round flew between the two fighters. They paused momentarily, looking at its source.

Stroheim cackled with delight as, from his _Volkswaffe_ , hundreds of bullets sprayed out in all directions from the 20 or so machine guns bolted on at every conceivable angle.

"Behold, the glory of German technology!" he shrieked. "Each of these guns shoots 1200 rounds per minute! Your chances of survival are all slim to none!"

"He's not kidding!" Hol Horse shouted, pulling even farther back. "My own weapon pales in comparison to that metal titan!"

Stroheim was now bearing down on Josuke and Joseph, who had both failed to keep up with the Zeppelis and the Pillar Men. He aimed his guns at Josuke. "I'll take you out first, boy," he said, "not out of empathy for your father, but because I hear you can fix broken things somehow. You'd be a bigger pain than Joseph, and that's saying a lot!"

His heavy weapons shredded the back of Josuke's ambulance, tearing through the steel like a hot knife through butter.

"Goddamn Nazis," Josuke muttered under his breath. "Crazy Diamond, go!"

Immediately, his Stand shot out and began fixing the car. But Stroheim showed no signs of relenting, so it seemed an endless battle – at least, until one of the rounds passed through Crazy Diamond's shoulder.

Josuke cried out in pain, clutching his own shoulder, and hit the brakes. He fell behind Stroheim, leaving Joseph alone as the target of his wrath.

"Long time no see, Joseph!" he bellowed. "I hope you don't expect me to spare you because of what happened back then!"

"Not at all," Joseph said. "You Jerries never seem to be the compassionate sort. Fortunately, I have a plan to deal with you."

Stroheim grinned. "Let me guess. Your next line is, 'it involves running away', isn't it?"

Joseph hammered on his nitro button, shooting ahead of Stroheim.

"It involves running away – what?" shouted Joseph, confused.

Stroheim cackled even louder. "That was the wrong move, Jojo!" He flipped a switch, and an aperture opened at the front of his _Volkswaffe_. "You should've just let me pass you!" He pulled the trigger.

A white-hot beam shot from Stroheim's tank, straight at Joseph's car. Instantly, it exploded, sending pieces flying in every direction.

"OH NO!" shouted Joseph, still holding his steering wheel as he sailed through the air.

"Oh my god!" Speedwagon shouted. "Stroheim has just hit _Bloody Storm_ with a railgun shot, destroying it instantly!"

Stroheim laughed once again. "The engineers warned me that the railgun is best at a straight-line shot. A racer right next to me – that'd be too risky, I'd easily miss due to the high speed we're both going at. But a fleeing racer directly in front of me, now that'd be perfect!

"You've lost, Jojo!" he shouted as he drove past Joseph, rolling along the ground. "Your strategy doesn't work when everyone knows you're going to do it!" With that, he roared off into the forest ahead of them, cackling louder than ever.

"What a disaster for Joseph Joestar!" Speedwagon exclaimed, jumping up and down. "Minutes into the race, and he's already been completely eliminated!"

Shakily, Joseph got to his feet, steering wheel still in hand. He looked at the wreckage of his car, then at the racers approaching from behind. Then he smiled.

"Oh?" Speedwagon said. "It appears Joseph may yet have a plan!"

"Indeed, I do, Speedwagon!" he declared. "Think fast!"

Without further ado, he chucked the wheel directly at Josuke, who was still preoccupied with fixing his own car.

Josuke looked up just in time to see the wheel flying at his head. Crazy Diamond shot from the back of the truck to the front and knocked it out of the way in the nick of time.

"What the hell is wrong with you, old man?" Josuke shouted at the figure on the side of the road.

"I'll tell you at the finish line, son!" he declared triumphantly, before running back to his car.

Which was now slowly reassembling itself.

"Incredible!" Speedwagon declared. "By throwing a piece of his own car at Josuke while he was in the middle of repairing _Ambulance_ , Joseph used his son's power to repair his own vehicle! When Josuke swatted the wheel away, it inadvertently started repairing his entire car!"

Wincing from his injuries, which were even now being healed by his Hamon breathing, Joseph stepped back into his now fully repaired car and started it up.

"And just like that, Joseph Joestar is back in the race, using nothing more than his own cunning to overcome what seemed like a crippling mistake!" Speedwagon shouted. "But he has paid dearly for his blunder, for even though his car is once again fully operational, he is now dead last in the race!"

"Actually, Speedwagon," Johnathan said, looking at another monitor, "that's not quite true."

"Hm?" Speedwagon glanced at the monitor. "By god, you're right, Johnathan! While we were all distracted with the Joestars, it seems we completely missed this development! It seems two racers are still at the starting line!"

xxxxxxx

ZZ pounded his steering wheel. "Come on, you piece of shit, drive!"

 _Wheel of Fortune_ sputtered and stalled, remaining motionless at the starting line. The audience was starting to laugh.

"I'm a Stand user!" he shrieked. "This is my Stand! How does this happen?!"

A few meters away, Kira paused in the middle of unwrapping his sandwich, his feet on the steering wheel. "Perhaps," he pondered aloud, "it's reflective of your own capabilities as a person.

"Shut it, salaryman!" ZZ shouted, alternating between turning his key and pounding impotently on the wheel with his ridiculously oversized arms. "This is blatant author bias, and I won't stand for-"

"If you don't shut up," Kira said, setting his sandwich aside, "I'll have to blow you away."

ZZ ignored him, shrieking and swearing at his car at increasingly high frequencies.

Kira sighed. "I suppose my lunch can wait," he said, reaching for his controls.

Slowly, the barrel of _Don't Stop Me Now_ turned until it was pointing directly at _Wheel of Fortune_. At this range, it was practically a point-blank shot.

Suddenly, _Wheel's_ engine revved to life.

"Yes! It's working!" he declared. "Jotaro, watch your back, because ZZ is back in the-"

"Too late."

 _Click_

In a single visceral instant, _Wheel of Fortune_ was annihilated. The crowds were pelted with bits of metal, rubber, and ZZ himself, who landed in the far back row of the seats. He would stay there for the rest of the race, twitching.

Kira picked up his sandwich again. "If it's any consolation," he said, "I would've done the same if you had started successfully. That is, assuming you made it to the finish line, which I wouldn't bet on."

The crowd started to boo him. He turned to them, unconcerned.

"Don't look at me like that," Kira said. "I don't have the resources at my disposal to make a fast enough car to cross the finish line first. How would I afford it on my salary? But I still win the race if I'm the last man standing, even if I never move anything but my barrel."

He pointed the barrel behind him, to what would be the final stretch of the race.

"The last mile of this track is perfectly straight. No curves, and no cover. More than enough time for _Don't Stop Me Now_ to eliminate every single racer that comes my way. But that's in the future. For now…"

 _chew_

"What a beautiful day it is."

==To Be Continued==


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

 **100% accurate**

"Yahoo!" Stroheim screeched, careening through the forest. "I am the ubermensch!"

Behind him, Koichi, Hol Horse, and Wammu could only watch as the _Volkswaffe_ charged ahead, guns firing in every direction. He skidded around each turn, his treaded tires gripping well to the road.

"He certainly is enjoying this," Wammu said. "It would almost be a shame to ruin it for him."

"I think I could live with it," Koichi said, pulling ahead. "Echo! Act 2!"

Stroheim thundered on, unaware of the conversation behind him as he approached the next corner. As with the previous corners, he angled his tires well in advance of the turn, well-prepared.

This time, however, his tires failed to find traction. Stroheim's screeches of glee turned to surprise as he skidded off the road. "WHAAAT?!" he shouted as he crashed into a tree.

"Watch those hairpins, ubermensch," Koichi said, smirking as he drove past.

"Good job, kid," Hol Horse muttered under his breath. He rounded the same corner, taking care to avoid the word _Slip!_ written in the center of the road. "That's a powerful Stand you have – way more useful than your Act 3 if you used it right. Too bad I'm not here to be your life coach."

He pulled out his phone and speed dialed the familiar number. "Okay, Boingo, is the manga working?"

Boingo's voice came in loud and clear. _"It is, yes! The pages are filling in, yes!"_

"Great! Now what is it I have to do to overtake this kid?"

From his home, Boingo read the newly materialized panels. _"Hol Horse and Koichi go around the corner and reach a stretch of straight path! When Koichi isn't looking, Hol Horse pulls out his gun and shoots Koichi in the back! Koichi loses control of his vehicle and hits a tree! Easy overtake for Hol Horse!"_

"Perfect!" Hol Horse declared. "Just what I'm best at – attacks the enemy can't see coming!" He summoned his gun and fired straight at Koichi's back.

Moments later, it impacted, hitting Koichi just below his left lung. Koichi lurched, slumping over his steering wheel. As his car swerved off the road, he managed to find the brake pedal and slow his car, but he couldn't stop in time and slammed into a tree.

"Yes!" declared Hol Horse, pumping his fist. "Just like that, two strong competitors out of the race – or at least very far behind me. Races like this are highly unpredictable in nature, so Boingo's foresight combined with my long-range weapon will be perfect!" He picked up the phone again. "Boingo! What's next?"

Silence answered him.

"Boingo? You there?"

A shaky voice answered. _"I'm still here, yes."_

"Then what is it? What happens next?"

 _"_ _W-While Hol Horse is gloating, his bike skids off a rock and he also crashes into a tree! I-Instant payback for Hol Horse!"_

"WHAT?" Hol Horse shouted.

 _"_ _Y-You heard me, yes."_

Hol Horse began to sweat.

 _God dammit, now I'm supposed to crash too? This wasn't supposed to happen! This should've been my chance to win!_

Sweat rolled down his face and shirt, slicking the handlebars.

 _So what happens if I try to avoid it? I know it's guaranteed to happen, but it could hardly get much worse for me than hitting a tree! Maybe if I try to steer towards a smaller tree, it won't be so-_

Suddenly, _Old Flames_ lurched to the side. The bike nearly skidded off the road, but Hol Horse reacted instantly, pulling back towards the center. An instant later, he realized what he had done.

"That was the rock!" he realized with horror. "I hit it! But I didn't crash because I was so on-edge about this whole thing!"

His teeth started to chatter. "W-What's gonna happen to me now?"

As if to answer him, he heard a horrendous cracking noise from behind. Before he could turn to see the cause, a tree flew over his head and landed right in front of him.

This time, Hol Horse had absolutely no time to react. He plowed straight into the tree, launching himself head over heels off the bike. He sailed through the air and slammed to the ground, rolling maybe 30 feet before skidding to a halt.

"W…What the…" he managed. He looked behind him just in time to see Wammu plow through what was left of his bike, utterly disintegrating it.

"What a vile human," Wammu said with contempt, "to use such a sneak attack – on a child, no less. You should've just hit the tree to begin with, and I would've considered it fair." With that, he drove away, brushing pieces of bark off his hands.

Hol Horse lay on the ground, groaning as other racers drove around him. Eventually, he heard a voice coming through his phone.

 _"_ _Hol Horse! Hol Horse! Are you okay? Do you hear me?"_ Boingo shouted.

Hol Horse picked up the phone. "I hear you, Boingo, loud and clear."

 _"_ _See, this is what I-"_

"Boingo, I don't think this partnership is going to work out," he said.

 _"_ _What? Why?"_

"I'm willing to take any help I can to succeed," he said. "But if I'm destined to failure – I think I can do that on my own."

He hung up the phone, letting his arm fall to the ground. "Ow."

xxxxxxx

"And with that, Hol Horse is out of the race!" Speedwagon declared. On the big board behind him, Hol Horse's name turned red. "Barely out of the gate, and we're already down to 13 racers. But with Stroheim crashed and Koichi gravely wounded, it seems they might also be out soon!"

Johnathon interrupted. "Perhaps you've spoken too soon, Speedwagon," he said. "Switch to camera 3."

The camera jumped to a new display, and so did Speedwagon. On the screen, Koichi was already on his vehicle and driving again.

"Impossible!" Speedwagon shouted. "Koichi, who had suffered a crash and a gunshot wound, is already back in the race! But how?"

On the track, Koichi smiled. He lifted his shirt to look at his injuries, which were already stitched shut.

"Yukako was worried about me," he said. "Worried enough to ride alongside me – in a manner of speaking."

Even as he spoke, a strand of Yukako's hair inched up the side of his face, stitching a gash on his cheek closed. Within his car, intertwined locks of her hair pulled key pieces of machinery back together.

"Amazing!" Speedwagon bellowed. "A person with free, independent control of their hair! Johnathon, have you ever heard of something so strange?"

Johnathon smiled weakly. "I…don't suppose I have, Speedwagon."

"It just goes to show, anything can happen in this race!" Speedwagon continued. "And we're just getting started! Who will be eliminated next? What amazing developments will unfold? And just who will win this truly bizarre venture?"

=To Be Continued=


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

 **Gone to pieces**

Kars and Esidisi rocketed out of the woods, side by side. With one hand on the wheel, Esidisi looked behind him at the other racers.

"We're in the lead already, Kars," he said. "I didn't think we'd get this far already. What do you think they're thinking about us?"

"That we're idiots for using up all our nitro so early on," Kars suggested, smiling.

"Yeah, well…" Esidisi said, moving closer to Kars until their cars were just an inch apart. "Let's see them pass us!"

"Wow!" Speedwagon exclaimed. "The Pillar Men are using their heightened senses to control their vehicles incredibly precisely!"

"Not only that," Johnathon interjected, "but it seems they've designed their cars specifically for this purpose."

This was very much the case. Every concavity in _Drive_ was matched perfectly by a convexity in _Highway_ , and vice versa. With the two cars so close together, they formed what seemed to be an impenetrable wall of metal.

"Indeed, Johnathon, indeed!" Speedwagon concurred. "These two will prove incredibly hard to pass. I certainly pity the first poor racer who attempts to-"

"Move it, road hogs!" Josuke shouted. "You're in the way!"

Kars glanced back in amusement as Josuke approached from the rear, with Jotaro right behind.

"If you guys don't get out of the way," Jotaro said, "We'll just have to move you by force."

Kars chuckled. "It seems self-preservation is a recessive gene in the Joestar bloodline."

"Where's Wammu?" Esidisi said irritably. "He should be here to deal with these humans."

"Just as well he isn't," Kars said. "Without Hamon, these two are beneath even him."

Esidisi nodded. "So you mean to say that we should use it?"

"I'd hoped we could hang onto it for a bit longer, but it seems the time is ripe to use it."

"All right," Esidisi said, pulling out a large burlap sack.

"Oh?" Josuke said, gripping the wheel tightly. "What sort of cheap trick is this? Caltrops? A smokescreen? An oil slick? Whatever it is, I'm ready for it!"

"You've been playing too many videogames," Jotaro muttered.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Esidisi said. "This is far more…primitive." He untied the rope holding the bag closed, then upended it. Josuke readied his guard for whatever came out of that bag.

He was caught totally off-guard, however, when Santana's head dropped out of the bag, bounced off the road, and leapt up to sink his teeth into Josuke's arm.

"What the hell?!" he shouted as the rest of Santana's body fell, piecemeal, onto the road, then rebounded and flung itself at the racers.

"Gadzooks!" Speedwagon exclaimed. "It's Santana, the forgotten Pillar Man! Abandoned by Kars when he became convinced he was little more than a guard dog, it seems he is now being used as a living weapon!"

"Did you really just say 'Gadzooks'?" Johnathon said.

Meanwhile, Josuke and Jotaro were pelted with the fragments of Santana's body. Some rebounded off the road and hit them directly, while others latched onto their wheels as they drove over them and started climbing up their cars. His arms wrapped around their necks, while legs grabbed arms and tried to yank them off the wheels. Ribs dug into their sides, and tendons wrapped around hands and feet, cutting off circulation. Both their Stands tried frantically to pull these hostile appendages off, to little avail.

"When the old man said he fought beings that could turn their whole bodies into weapons," Jotaro said, "I never thought he meant it like this!"

"Once I met a Stand that could separate into pieces," Josuke grunted, "but this is a whole new level of disgusting!"

Josuke's hands were pulled away from the wheel, and the car began to drift.

"How pathetic," Santana's head said. "Even spread among two of you monkeys, I can still overwhelm you in a heartbeat."

Jotaro's white outfit began turning red.

"Once you two are defeated," he continued, "I'll move onto the next racers, then the next, then the next. Soon, it'll be only master Kars left, and then, finally, I will have the means to evolve into a higher being, worthy of his audience."

Josuke grinned. "That's a great objective," he said smugly, "but I'm afraid you've got one problem with it."

Santana loomed. "And what is that, monkey?"

"In order for him to win, I'd have to lose," Josuke said. "And that isn't happening."

He turned to his car. "Autopilot!" he shouted. "Engage!"

Instantly, the wheel snapped into its proper place. The car stopped drifting and returned to its normal path. _"Autopilot engaged,"_ a cheerful voice said.

"This is a new development," Speedwagon said. "Josuke's car has an autopilot?"

"Maybe it does," Johnathon said cryptically, "and maybe it doesn't. In this world, you never know for sure."

"Now I can focus my undivided attention on you," Josuke said. "And that's not the only thing that's going to be undivided. Crazy Diamond!"

Crazy Diamond pelted Santana's head with a flurry of blows. His appendages started to loosen their grip on the two racers, then let go entirely, flying back to their host and reattaching themselves to him. Santana looked down at his now reformed body, bewildered.

"What…happened?" he murmured, scratching his head.

"I fixed you," Josuke declared triumphantly. "Well, most of you."

Crazy Diamond held up one remaining rib, which was visibly straining to return to the rest of him.

"And personally," Josuke continued, "I think that piece of you would look better over…there!"

His Stand threw the rib off to the side of the road, embedding itself in a nearby street sign.

"That rib's not coming back," Josuke said, "but you're still going to be reunited with it. Do you understand what that means, Santana-san?"

At first, it was clear that he didn't. A moment later, it dawned on him, but it was too late.

With a grunt, Santana was yanked from the car, his body flung backwards towards his missing rib. He slammed into the street sign, utterly demolishing it. By the time he had recovered, he could only watch the other racers recede into the distance.

He dusted himself off. "I am defeated," he said emotionlessly. "But Master Kars will not be. Once he has revealed his ultimate technique, there will be nobody who can defeat him.

He smiled. "Do…you…understand?"

xxxxxxx

"Man, this is all kinds of screwed up," Josuke muttered to himself as he bandaged his various wounds. "Carrying around your buddy in a bag like a jigsaw puzzle – these guys are nuts!"

"Hey, Josuke," Jotaro called from his nearby car.

Josuke looked up. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to say thank you, for helping me out with that guy."

"Huh?" Josuke said. "Oh, yeah, for pulling him off you." He rubbed the back of his head, grinning. "Good thing Crazy Diamond was around, or you'd be-"

"Of course, it was almost certainly an accident," Jotaro continued. "Just a byproduct of saving your own skin."

"Hey, that's not being very grateful for-"

"Which is fortunate," Jotaro plowed on, "because if I thought you had helped me on purpose, I'd have to knock you out myself."

"What?" Josuke said, caught off guard.

Jotaro glowered. "This is a race. All of us are risking our lives for a high-value prize. If one racer were to help another, it would either be collusion, or that racer wasn't taking things seriously."

He leaned out of his car, his head inches away from Josuke's. "Neither such racer has any place in this race and would have to be eliminated immediately. Understand?"

Josuke nodded, suddenly very afraid of his nephew.

Jotaro leaned back into his car. "But since I know you only helped me by accident, there's nothing wrong with thanking you for it. Best of luck to you – or perhaps second best, I should say." With that, he drove away.

Josuke put his head in his hand. "Man, that guy has a complicated morality system. I guess this means I can't expect any help from him, even if he is my – what's this?"

His attention suddenly was drawn to his left arm, where he noticed something peculiar. Within one of the holes made by Santana's teeth, he noticed a small white mark, in the shape of a triangle. In fact, it almost looked like…

"No," he said in disbelief. "He couldn't have."

He grabbed the triangle and, wincing at the pain, pulled hard.

An entire rectangular section of his arm was pulled off, revealing a white page covered in writing of various fonts and sizes. But one sentence in particular caught his eye, hastily scrawled and positioned as it was in the center of the page.

 _I cannot win the Grand Prix race._

He clenched his fist. "Rohan!" he shouted to the sky.

"I should've known you'd try something like this. Fortunately, I know how to deal with it."

He sent out Crazy Diamond, who delicately reached into his arm and touched a piece of the writing. "By returning this ink to where it previously was…"

Part of the scribbling disappeared, and the sentence now read _I can win the Grand Prix race._

"Hah! You lose, Rohan Kishibe! I now know exactly how to defeat your Stand, and I'm free to beat the race at my own – urk!"

Without warning, Josuke lunged forward, grabbed the steering wheel, and yanked it hard to the right. His car veered, only just managing to avoid going off the road as the wheel corrected itself.

 _"_ _Autopilot doesn't help if you crash the car on your own, Josuke,"_ the car said.

"I know that!" Josuke shouted back. "Do you think I meant to do that?"

Even as he spoke, he felt an uncontrollable urge to do the very same thing a second time. His right arm started reaching forward, and he had to grab it with his left to restrain it.

That's when he noticed another white mark on his right arm.

Without hesitation, he yanked this page open, the pain drowned out by his anger.

 _If I discover Rohan's interference, I will immediately drive off the road._

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed.

The sound of an engine distracted him. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw, with dismay, that William and Caesar were catching up to him, all the distractions having slowed him down considerably.

"Ugh, gonna have to deal with this first," he bemoaned. "Good thing I planned ahead."

He pulled a sack from under his seat and untied the rope. "I had worried this might be a little scummy to use, but if they can throw a whole guy at me, I'm sure this is fine."

He tossed the sack into the air, and Crazy Diamond unleashed a flurry of punches on it.

Caesar squinted as the sack spun through to the air. "What's in that thing?"

"It looks like a bag of ash," William said, slowing down a bit.

"Ash?" Caesar wondered aloud.

Realization struck him. "Ash!" he shouted slamming on the brakes.

Half a second later, the fully reformed tree crashed to the ground right where the Zeppelis would have been if they hadn't braked. It bounced off the road and started to roll directly towards them.

Quickly, Caesar launched a stream of bubbles at the trunk, shredding half the tree to matchwood. William leapt onto his hood and performed a roundhouse kick, shattering what remained of the tree into pieces.

"Actually, it's oak," Josuke shouted back at them. "I couldn't find any ash trees in Morioh!"

He chuckled at his joke. "That set them back a fair bit," he said to himself. "And I've rid myself of that other asshole's interference. Unless…"

He ran his hands up and down his legs. Sure enough, he felt another corner of paper on each. Sighing, he pulled back the one on his left leg, holding it up to his head to better read it.

 _I will have painful diarrhea before, during, and after the Grand Prix race._

"That's why that happened?" Josuke said incredulously. "You motherfu-"

"Good heavens!" Speedwagon interjected. "To think, that Rohan would make such a petty move. Rohan Kishibe, wherever you are, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

xxxxxxx

On the couch in his Morioh home, Rohan Kishibe smiled.

"No, Speedwagon, I don't feel the least bit of shame," he said, watching Josuke's impotent rage on his television. "In fact, I feel obligated to do all that I can to be a thorn in Josuke's side." He opened his can of beer and took a swig, then continued.

"You see, I don't hate him, in the way that Dio hates Jotaro or vice versa. What I feel towards Josuke is a deep, abiding, unflinching distaste, bordering on loathing but never quite crossing the threshold. That's a unique feeling, one that I've never felt about anyone before. Such a unique feeling deserves to be indulged, lest it slip away and leave me without this totally unique experience. Thus, I find it impossible to feel even the least bit guilty about any of the writings I've placed on him."

He took another sip of his beer. "Even the one on his back."

= To Be Continued =


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five**

 **The western front**

"Come on, you piece of crap!" Polnareff said, stepping on the gas. "Go faster!"

In truth, he was already going faster than he had ever driven in his life, but all the other racers were even faster than him. Substantially so, in fact.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I mean, how does a vampire even learn to build a car, much less one that can go faster than a V8-"

"Jean Pierre Pollllllllnarefffffff," a voice called out.

"Ah, crap," Polnareff mumbled, turning around.

Stroheim bore down on him, his tank dwarfing his own car.

"Rudol von Stroheim," Polnareff said sourly. "What brings you here? Did you get lost on the way to Nuremburg?"

"You're the one who doesn't belong here, Polnareff!" Stroheim declared, pointing at him sharply, as if his finger was a pistol. Hell, it probably was. "You have no Hamon, no stone mask – you don't even have a plot to use the Stone for world domination! What reason could you possibly have for being in this race?"

Polnareff drew himself up. "I have my reasons. I'll show you them once I win."

Stroheim cackled, pulling his car closer to Polnareff's until the two were almost touching. "Not at this speed, you won't! Dead last, without even having the dignity of being attacked to slow you down! You're the tortoise of this race!"

Polnareff smirked. "You know the tortoise wins the race in the story, right?"

"Not if the rabbit kills him first."

Stroheim reached into his car and pulled out a sword – a massive sword, at that. It looked as if it weighed at least 50 pounds, and its blade sparkled in the sunlight.

"This blade," he said, grinning, "was designed after Kars's light mode. It carves through steel like butter – just imagine what it'll do to your flesh!"

Polnareff's grin grew broader. "Oh, that's rich," he said, summoning Silver Chariot. "Bringing a sword to a Stand fight – this shouldn't take long!" Silver Chariot thrust its sword forward.

Stroheim deflected it.

Speedwagon gasped. Polnareff's eyes grew wide. "Impossible," he breathed.

Stroheim pulled his arm back. "For German science," he screeched, "there is no such thing as impossible!"

He swung his sword with amazing speed, hitting Silver Chariot square in the ribcage. No cut was made, but Chariot was thrown to the side, and recovered just in time to block Stroheim's follow-up swing, aimed squarely at Polnareff's head.

"Help me out, Speedwagon!" Polnareff called as Chariot rebuffed his attacker. "Are my eyes playing tricks on me?"

"No, Polnareff," Speedwagon shouted into his microphone. "His eyes are!"

Stroheim laughed. "So, he's figured it out, then."

He tapped the side of his temple. "My eyes have built-in sensors to detect the air currents that your Silver Chariot creates by moving and attacking. And my armor is strong enough to withstand a direct hit from your sword, too! I am completely Stand-proof!"

Polnareff forced a smile. "Well, bravo, but that still won't do you any good. In case your sensors didn't notice, that sword can't penetrate Silver Chariot's armor, either."

Stroheim's grin drew wider. "I don't see _you_ wearing any armor, Polnareff."

Silver Chariot moved into a fencing posture. "So, it's a battle, then," Polnareff said. "We'll see if I can penetrate your armor before you make it past my Stand. I suppose you'll make a nice warmup before I take on Dio and win this race."

Stroheim gripped his sword with both hands. "En garde, Frenchie."

Polnareff grinned. "Alles klar, Herr kommissar?"

Silver Chariot thrust forward. Stroheim blocked and riposted, and the battle was on. Polnareff started out on the defensive, feeling his opponent out. Stroheim was more than happy to take the lead and quickly started pressing forward.

Stroheim was no elegant fighter – all his blows were visible from a mile away – but he swung his hulking sword around far faster than he had any right to. And even as Polnareff deflected his blows, the force of the impacts rattled his bones. He took a half-step back, and Stroheim pressed immediately, stepping onto his car and swinging as he did so.

"Back up, jack!" Polnareff said as Silver Chariot thrust its sword forward, trying to push him off the car, but Stroheim took the blow on the shoulder as he stepped onto the car with his other foot, forcing Polnareff to step back.

Stroheim cackled. "First blood to you, Polnareff – though I can't say it hurt me that much!"

 _Dammit,_ Polnareff thought. _Robots don't feel pain – how am I supposed to keep him from walking all over me?_

Stroheim kept advancing, his lumbering metal body pushing Polnareff to the edge of his car. "Nowhere to run, boy!" he shouted. He started hammering away at Silver Chariot, who by now was backed up directly into Polnareff. He was now having to lean back out of his car and directly over the road just to let Chariot have any kind of windup.

"Gah!" he shouted. At the last second, he dove to Stroheim's left, while simultaneously sending Chariot to dive to his right. Stroheim spent a split second too long deciding which side to swipe his sword to, and his swing missed Polnareff, though he cleaved off half of his steering wheel.

Polnareff landed on the _Volkswaffe_ , slamming down hard on his shoulder. He spun around just in time to see Stroheim's follow-up swing and block it with Silver Chariot. He struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder.

Rather than pulling back for another swing, Stroheim continued to press on with his sword, straining against Silver Chariot's sword. Polnareff pushed back, but he could feel himself and Chariot steadily sliding backwards.

"Did you think I would be helpless in this race?" Stroheim shouted into Polnareff's face. "A blind fool, being bounced from Stand user to Stand user? I've been waiting for this moment for decades! German science has made me strong! Strong enough to stand head to head against the Pillar men – against Dio!"

Polnareff didn't respond – it was taking all his concentration to keep from falling over.

"And you?" Stroheim continued. You're weak! A spring chicken who hasn't seen real battle, let alone war! A child playing at being an adult with his pathetic little Stand, in a race he has no chance of winning! What a pathetic song and dance you've put up!"

Stroheim lifted his foot, preparing to step back onto his own car. Just before he did, Polnareff stepped to the side, stepping onto the steering wheel.

The car turned to the left, swerving away from Polnareff's car. Stroheim, now suddenly off balance, tilted forward, his leg falling between the two cars. Frantically, he threw his arms out and grabbed the car, letting the sword fall into Polnareff's car.

Polnareff laughed, though it came out as more of a gasp, with how little air he had left in his lungs. "How's that for song and dance, you damn dirty Nazi?" He turned the wheel to the left further, sweeping Stroheim's other leg off his car. Then, before Stroheim could haul himself up, he spun it to the right, slamming the two cars together and crushing his legs.

"Say goodbye to your legs, chump!" Polnareff shouted, leaping over Stroheim and into his own car. He grabbed hold of what was left of his own steering wheel and pulled to the right, intending to pull the cars apart and send Stroheim falling onto the road.

His car didn't come away.

He turned to look at Stroheim, whose hands were now clamped onto the side of each car. He moved in to try and stamp on his hands. "Let go, you bastard!"

Stroheim's head spun 180 degrees around. "And why would I do that?" he said, grinning. "I've got everything I need right here!"

Stroheim spun his hands around, placing his right hand where his left had just been and vice versa, then started to turn his upper torso. There was a sickening crunching noise, and Polnareff watched in horror as, on the road behind them, he saw Stroheim's robotic legs, ripped off at the pelvis, bouncing down the road.

Polnareff turned back and saw something even more frightening – a massive machine gun, jutting out from Stroheim's chest. Frantically, he called up Silver Chariot, who shielded him just in time.

Stroheim cackled gleefully as a hail of bullets erupted from his midsection, bouncing off Silver Chariot but pinning Polnareff down behind it.

"Let's see you fence your way out of 600 rounds per minute!" he shouted.

From his shoulders, two giant floodlights erupted. "And let's see you do it while blind!"

Polnareff was bathed in a deluge of light, bright even against his closed eyelids. He had little choice but to turn his back to Stroheim, standing fully behind and against the much slimmer Silver Chariot.

"These ultraviolet cannons weren't made for you, Polnareff," Stroheim said, "but they'll do just fine to keep you defenseless while my bullets tear you to shreds!"

He twisted his body, swinging his machine gun's path of fire across Silver Chariot's legs. A few bullets grazed Polnareff's shins, and he screamed out. He nearly doubled over, but held himself tall, knowing that bending over would fully expose himself to the line of fire.

Fighting through the pain, Polnareff looked down into his car, squinting against the piercing ultraviolet light. Very faintly, he saw the outline of what he had been looking for – Stroheim's discarded blade. It seemed within reach.

 _That was what, 50 pounds? And I'll have maybe a couple seconds to do something with it._

 _What a shitty window of opportunity._

Frantically, he reached out for it with his left hand. Simultaneously, he threw Chariot's right arm forward, thrusting his own sword at one of Stroheim's lights. As Chariot's body twisted forward into the thrust, he mirrored it with his own body, trying to stay behind it as he lunged towards the sword.

Silver Chariot's sword landed in Stroheim's left bulb. The light flickered, but didn't go out.

Stroheim snickered. "Valiant effort, Polnareff, but you haven't-"

"Gyah!" Polnareff shouted. Gripping the massive sword in both hands, he heaved. He swung it up, over his shoulder.

At the apex of its arc, the sword wavered. Then it swung down at a diagonal angle.

Stroheim's eyes widened, but it was too late. The sword cleaved through his left cannon, then his shoulder, then his chest, then his right wrist, all in a fraction of a second.

With little more than a grunt of surprise, Stroheim's upper body slipped off the cars and fell onto the road, making unpleasant noises as it bounced and rolled along.

Polnareff grabbed the steering wheel and turned, yanking his car away from Stroheim's. With no driver and no hands gripping them together, Stroheim's car slowly drifted off the road, cruising along for a short time before it collided with a tree and came to a stop.

Polnareff sank back into his seat, sighing deeply. "God damn," he breathed, blinking rapidly to try and return his eyesight to normal. "If there's one thing worse than Nazis, it's robo-Nazis. And to think, Mr. Joestar spoke highly of that guy…"

On the road behind him, Stroheim groaned. With his stump of an arm, he propped himself up, staring at Polnareff's retreating form. "This isn't over," he snarled.

His eyes zoomed in, focusing on Polnareff's retreating form. He lifted what was left of his right arm up. If his fingers had still been attached, it would appear he was giving off a Nazi salute – in fact, the reality was far worse.

"My hand cannon," he muttered. "He cut off the hand, but not the rockets that propelled it! If I launch it at him, the rockets will make it all the way to the back of his neck!"

He adjusted his aim. "Let's see how you handle a military grade rocket to the spine, frenchman! So long, Polnareff!"

He started to laugh, then trailed off. He watched Polnareff steadily drive away, slowly getting out of range.

He sighed, then lowered his arm. "Oh, forget it," he said. He tilted his head back, and what remained of his body fell onto his back.

"Who am I to shoot him in the back? After he defeated me in fair combat, can I really claim he doesn't deserve to be in this race?"

Stroheim began to drag himself off the road, waiting for his pit crew to arrive.

"I'm an old man," he said. "Not as old as some in this race, but still past my prime. My country has moved on – it's time I do the same. The victory doesn't belong to me. It belongs to someone in this new generation – someone who can vanquish Kars, outwit Dio, and win. And maybe Polnareff will be able to do it."

He thought about it for a moment. "Then again, maybe not. It is Polnareff, after all."

==To Be Continued=


End file.
